Saturday, 7 March 2009

Every cloud must have a silver lining

So we are summoned from our exciting time in London by the threat that Shark may be gravely ill.

Aunty Dee may have had enough. She cannot find evidence of temperature, sore throat, headache or other symptoms, beyond Shark groaning, and lying wanly on the sofa. Aunty Dee has attempted to feed Shark the obligatory pink juice, but Shark jumped up and fled the room shouting Not bloody likely. Or words to that effect. It might be time to wrap up my life of glamour in gold spangled tissue paper, shove it to the back of the cupboard of memories and other bizzarities, roll up my sleeves, and get on with living daily.

First, I am determined to show Aunty Dee a good time, hopefully to say thank you for putting up with the gritlets. On the agenda is a visit to the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, which is stored in a dusty corner of a Cambridge quadrangle a bit like you might stuff a shoe box of treasures under the bed.

But because today we are doing things properly - and I fondly want to bring back a little of that sun and moon kissed moment of living it up in London to Aunty Dee, who has doubtless been on her hands and knees grovelling in grime - this means I have decided that we arrive in Cambridge elegantly. Like ladies who lunch. But because I have to please the gritlets too, I say before we tour the museums, we may take pizza at the Pizza Express. This, I think, will show everyone a good time. It will certainly make a change from eating last week's stale bread from a plastic bag as we travel at 70mph on the A1 and referring to it as a lovely picnic.

By the time we arrive in Cambridge, it is already too late for pizza. But I'm not giving up on my idea that this is a fine day out and a treat all round. I suggest we pop into a posh sandwich shop where Aunty Dee can indulge herself in goats cheese and black olive paste. And here I strongly recommend Tiger, Shark and Squirrel take pizza slices.

I strongly recommended that, Tiger. So strongly in fact, some might interpret that as an order.

Now of course it all goes wrong. While I am calculating the income from selling a body part in order to pay for lunch, Aunty Dee must deal with Shark. Shark picks up a roasted vegetable panini from the self service counter and immediately drops it on the floor. Gasps and wails all round.

Once paid up and broke, Shark discovers her new choice of a delightful vegetable option is stuffed with rolls of parma ham, which might explain the cost. Of course there is more wailing. Shark won't eat it unless the ham is pulled out with fingernails and dropped in a bin. Then I must lie and revise all known physical laws and say of course the parma ham did not actually touch anything else in her panini bread.

That solved, Aunty Dee must now surmount the slight technical problem of Squirrel who suggests her pizza slice might be improved if it was the opposite shape, colour, texture and temperature while we are all stumbling crocodile fashion along the pavement looking for a bench on which to eat our lovely expensive lunch.

But at last! We find a lovely bench to sit on, surrounded by the quiet contemplative glory that is Cambridge. Here I can allow Aunty Dee a few moments to sit in the sun eating her sandwich from a paper bag, a la street lady. And I can turn my full attention to the constantly whining Tiger, whose mnmnm mnmnmm mnmmm has accompanied us up the street like a medieval minstrel with a special interest in recitals about seventeen miserable ways to die.

Tiger has chosen a ciabatta with sun dried tomatoes, mozzarella and rocket. She opens her ciabatta and declares, I do not like mozzarella. By remarkable foresight, I have equipped myself with two slices of dried Tesco value bread from a plastic bag I discreetly keep in my handbag for emergencies. In between the bread goes the mozzarella.

Tiger then declares I do not like the green stuff. In goes the rocket to Grit's sandwich.

And, I do not like the tomatoes.

Tiger now has a plain ciabatta roll (59p from M&S, £4.59 from posh sandwich shop) .

Give it a moment, and the inevitable happens. And I do not like the bread.

You see, this is exactly what happens when Grit tries to import the lifestyles of the wealthy and elegant to the domestic grind that is Grit's day. It is constantly undermined, frustrated and thwarted by small children until Grit is quite worn away and toppling over.

But I am not giving in. I take out all the contents of my sandwich until I am returned to the woeful two slices of Tesco value bread, and I exchange those for Tiger's ciabatta roll.

And so we eat. Now I can console myself that although I may be bankrupt and dealing with a malnourished trio combining a clumsy Shark, a complaining Squirrel and a cranky medieval minstrel intent on picking fights and kicking the pavement all afternoon, I have still come out on top.

I get to eat a decent sandwich. And Aunty Dee gets to sit in Cambridge on a bench.

I think I might have been tempted by a ploughman's lunch and a swift G&T at the nearest pub, possibly leaving the gritlets sitting outside with a lemonade and a bag of crisps (each - wouldn't want World War 3 breaking out if they had to share them). What remarkable restraint you have Grit!

Other stuff

We have educated triplet girls to age 16 by never sending them to school.

At age 16, one daughter is now at 6th form for A levels, so you can find out about culture clash.

The other two daughters are taking a year to think what they want to do next, because we run at our own pace.If you are looking for primary, try the archives under 2011 or 2012. Ideas? Try Seven days with elephants.

Secondary home ed? Try 2012 or 2014 through to 2016.

Exams made life boring for us all and the blog stopped for long periods so the home educated could concentrate on enjoying some teens.

From 2016, expect the blog to start concentrating on me, me, me, because it's my turn.

Home ed style: Secular, philosophical, eclectic, autonomous.

Exams: own choice IGCSE courses. The HE-exams group is a must-join. I gave formal lessons in nothing.

where is everybody?

This blog is a record of a home educationwrit for parents thinking about home edwrit for the LA who need an education about home edwrit for Grit's friends and relations who drop in once a yearand writ for Grit's sane and lovely mind.

The internal DCSF Consultation Report, made public 23 January. (pdf)In Annex A, 94% of respondents disagreed that the local authority should have the power to interview a home educated child alone.When this comes out Ed Balls' mouth in the Second Reading Debate, 94% against turns to:'The vast majority of parents would be happy to let that happen'(Hansard 11.01.10, Children, Schools and Families Bill, col 437.)

Love it or loathe it? The petition still broke a record.Press release in the Mirror, Channel4 news, the Guardian.

'Even if you don't currently see yourself home educating, you never know what the future might hold, and if a time comes when you find yourself needing to pull your child out of school, I hope the option is still available to you, and you don't regret thinking *it's nothing to do with me*.'

Read the Right to Reply'Home educators are renowned for their strong opinions and independent spirit. They come from all faiths and none. They have as many approaches to education as there are children. They rarely agree on anything. And yet they are remarkably united in their opposition to these proposals. There is great concern that their way of life will be legislated out of existence.'--Response to the Badman Review of Elective Home Education in England and reaction to the Select Committee hearing.

The problem with home educators is that they are impossible to define. The only things that links them is respect for their children. And did the state just stagger foolishly across that line?Are we sandal wearing tree huggers who let our kids run wild or control mad Jesus freaks who don't want them learning about sex and evolution? Are we hot housing or leaving them to watch TV and play computer games all day? -Firebird.The UK government suggested that we home educate our children to cover up our abuse.On that issue, would you like some statistics?

'The Department [for Children, Schools and Families] is aware that attempts are being made on the Internet to vilify and harass the author of the review. It is the Department's view that, whilst dealing with each request on its merits, this situation will have to be taken into account in dealing with any relevant FOI requests. ... we anticipate the need to consider whether it is in the public interest to release information likely to intensify any such campaign, or to lead to harassment or distress to individuals.'Hello DCSF. Vilify: to make vicious and defamatory statements about.Like putting it about that home educated children are abused by their parents? Isolated? Unsocialised? Denied an education?And the latest one, that their mothers have Munchhausen's Syndrome by Proxy, and benefit from their child's suffering.

... compulsory registration, entry to the home, inspection according to external standards, and power to see the child without the parent present.By implication this applies to anyone who has their child at home with them: particularly parents with under 5s, but also those with school-aged children who are at home in the evenings, over the weekends, and throughout the summer holidays. Think on: the possibility of parental inspection, with or without your presence, based on the very human whim of a local authority officer.Is that okay with you?Renegade Parent on the implications for all parents from the Badman review of home education.

'Parents have a prior right to choose the kind of education that shall be given to their children'.(Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, Article 26.3)

Photos and text copyright Grit.This is Grit's blog. The pictures come from her broken phone camera, and they are hers by right.

The words too are Grit's, Grit's, all Grit's. This is not to say you cannot use any words that Grit uses - after all, she is the unhinged woman who once banned SOIL - but you just cannot lift them in the long, complex and lovely arrangements, like the ones Grit has writ.

Please ask! If you wish to take images from this site, please send an email to gritsday@gmail.com

Keywords you may need for grit's day

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